


Blonde

by moneden



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blonde Kyungsoo, Chanyeol is me tbh, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Sex, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:24:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11959662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moneden/pseuds/moneden
Summary: Kyungsoo doesn't usually dye his hair. That one time he does, Chanyeol loses it.





	Blonde

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever ChanSoo ( definitely not last, sorry not sorry ), second ever and first EXO fanfic after 5 years. Blonde Kyungsoo in the Parallel Universe teaser had me sobbing, I had to do something about it and since ChanSoo is my OTP...The math was done by writing this one shot.

Kyungsoo never dyed his hair.

 

Black was his colour – it spoke of classic elegance, neatness exuding itself in the way he brushed back the strands of his jetblack hair. And despite the short episodes of the lighter shades resting atop his head or the dark redness during Growl, he always seemed to come back to the square one, to the safety of his natural colour he adored. Chanyeol also adored his black hair.

 

( Actually, he adored Kyungsoo just the way he was, regardless of the haircolour, the clothes of his choice, the makeup veiling his features or the lack of it. But that was so cheesy to admit out loud. )

 

Therefore, when his eyes came across the image of his boyfriend with the blonde locks caressing his handsome features in the manner so ethereal and unreal, the first, initial, ever so natural, reaction of his was perplexity, _shock_. Suddenly the oxygen and the world stopped existing, his hitched breath was cut short by the pulchritude of the heart-shaped lips curled in the most astounding way possible, the smile experiencing the most beautiful efflorescence Chanyeol had ever been given to marvel.

 

His heart itself behaved just as if it was about to jump out of the cage of his chest, leap forward and dance – or rather race – its way into Kyungsoo’s hands, offering itself on the silver plate unconditionally.

 

( Which was simply ridiculous considering the fact that the younger man had already had his heart, ever since their first meeting, the first, most minuscule brush of their fingers against each other that delivered Chanyeol a plethora of petite sparks waltzing across the whole surface of his body, overwhelming him with that _something_ only Kyungsoo possessed. )

 

“Y-your hair…” He was unable to form a proper sentence, the simplest act of communication, a coherent chain of short words that would make him look less dumb. With dilated pupils, the canvas of the umber orbs upon which were painted infinitesimal stars glimmering so vividly, with the faint roseate shade dusting itself so delicately across the apples of his cheeks and the demure nature that resurfaced seldom, only during the intimate moments they shared, Chanyeol stared at his boyfriend, he awaited any reaction, words, help, _anything_ to save him from the misery. He couldn’t stand the vehement battering of his heart which reverberated his whole body, reached the back of his head in the pounding echo that threatened to render him dizzy.

 

“You like it?” Kyungsoo’s voice poured over him like warm honey – dulcet, opulent, mellifluous and deep, setting his whole existence ablaze. The younger male, Chanyeol believed, was world’s most cunning robber, for he deprived the taller of sanity, the ability of comprehensible wording oneself, time, breath, heart, attention and devotion in the manner so particularly effortless it almost crossed the lines of peril. He didn’t even have to try – Chanyeol would do anything for him. He _would_ do anything in that moment too ( at _any_ moment, always, forever, without any grain of hesitation ), if it wasn’t for the paralyzed body that couldn’t move, fingers that didn’t even _dare_ to itch in front of Kyungsoo’s presence that anchored him into place by casting imaginary chains upon him, not allowing the smallest movement without younger’s approval or command, only ordering him so silently to admire the blonde man.

 

And it seemed as if the time had stopped, Chanyeol didn’t even realise the moment in which Kyungsoo’s warm ( Smaller than his own yet so, so, _so_ perfect and providing him with the tide of solace so ineffable crashing against the shore of his heart, warmth of safety that blanketed him with every, even the tiniest touch ) hand encountered the incandescent skin of his cheek. The delicacy within which Kyungsoo touched him made him feel as if he was made of the finest porcelain, too fragile, too precious, too beautiful and rare for any kind of roughness. For Kyungsoo, Chanyeol deserved love and love only. And he received it in the large quantities, an unconditional wave of affection distinguishable only for the shorter male, love instilled every cell of his body until the brim, Chanyeol drowned in the thick heat of the sea constituted of Kyungsoo’s admiration. He loved, he was loved and he didn’t need anything else but the safety of Kyungsoo’s arms that encased him so beautifully, like no one else before.

 

“Yes, a lot. This colour really suits you– Not that others don’t…You look very handsome in blonde. I mean, you always look handsome, Soo, but–” Before his mumbling could reach the apogee, Chanyeol was pulled into the exquisite softness of the kiss, an innocent encounter that was supposed to silence him yet evoked a petite whimper which resonated the back of his throat and which Kyungsoo drank up gladly in the whole, shameless desire he carried for Chanyeol. The romantic dance of their lips, a dalliance of stolen breaths and teeth that sunk in the plush flesh continued until the burning proliferated itself across their lungs, begging for mercy and any source of oxygen, until Chanyeol’s rosy tiers descended into shades more profound, lecherous, and were of a succulent cherry, glistening from the shared saliva.

 

“Perfect. I hope you like it even more when I’m pounding into you and you tug on it, begging me for me to go faster, for _more_ , for release” The subtle curl of Kyungsoo’s lips was illegal, humiliating, it made his stomach flip in the most exciting ways possible and made his pants suddenly way too tight, it was so tempting, a hidden challenge so, so, _so_ fucking tantalising. But not more intoxicating than the delicious depth of his voice, the rich timbre that tugged at the right strings of Chanyeol’s whole existence, rendering him pliant.

 

Chanyeol was in love.

 

And so fucking frustrated.

 

( Only later had he found out that the slide of the bleached locks against his skin was of utter perfection, that they felt so fucking good filling the empty spaces between his fingers, that they were made for Chanyeol to tug on them while his back arched in the moment when he reached the zenith of pleasure under Kyungsoo’s touch. )

 


End file.
